


(Don't) Leave Me Alone

by moonflowery



Category: Portrait de la jeune fille en feu | Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, First Meetings, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, i liked the ending i hope you will too, it's just... emotional i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:00:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25237315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonflowery/pseuds/moonflowery
Summary: The thing is, for as long as humans have walked the earth, soulmates have been able to find each other, to communicate, to mark each other. After meeting a soulmate for the first time, when one of them marks themselves, it shows on the skin of their soulmate.But how does Héloïse feel about it all? And about the beautiful drawings that her soulmate has been making for her their entire lives?
Relationships: Héloïse/Marianne (Portrait of a Lady on Fire)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 72





	(Don't) Leave Me Alone

The first one to notice the marks was Héloïse’s mother. She put her 4-years-old daughter to bed one night, just to notice there was a tiny drawing on her daughter’s right forearm. It was a smiley face. So far she hadn’t even thought about even mentioning those kinds of marks to her daughter. She had never received one herself. Why should they believe in them?

The thing is, for as long as humans have walked the earth, soulmates have been able to find each other, to communicate, to mark each other. After meeting a soulmate for the first time, when one of them marks themselves, it shows on the skin of their soulmate. However, humanity has grown in numbers and complications. With billions and billions of people on Earth, constantly moving, traveling, never staying still for long… what are the odds of crossing paths with your soulmate? 

But, staring at the little drawing on her daughter’s arm, Héloïse’s mother knew at once her daughter didn’t do that, but she knew what it was. The issue was considering whether they should do anything at all about it. That sunny Saturday of summer, Héloïse attended daycare with many other kids, with her mother they had been out on a park, visited a museum, and had ice cream. Héloïse had interacted with countless people that day. How could possibly one keep in touch with the soulmate of a little girl?

It wasn’t even that common anymore, seeing those marks. Some people started to believe the marks were just a myth, and some even strongly rejected them. They believed the marks could be explained scientifically, or they were a product of chance, but they refused to accept them as something that could dictate who they loved and what they did with their lives… What were the odds that little Héloïse, curious and clever as she already was, would turn out to be one of them?

* * *

Héloïse grew up to be full of questions. She had questions her mother couldn’t answer, Neither could her teachers. Not even the books she devoured while she was in college, not really. Everybody seemed to have theories, but nobody could actually explain to Héloïse why she grew up seeing tiny drawings show up on her right arm every day.

But at first, when she was just a little kid, it was just fun. It wasn’t all that scary or confusing, as anyone would expect a kid to react. Héloïse was smart and she understood quickly that someone out there, anywhere in the world now, could pick up a pen and scribble something on their arm for Héloïse to see. So, she grew up always accompanied by smiley faces, colorful flowers, and stick figures on her arm.

In exchange, Héloïse, who wasn’t as passionate about art as she was about words, she wrote on her left arm, knowing somewhere out there, somebody would be reading. She practiced on notebooks daily, when she was learning how to write, and when she was convinced she’d perfected it, she wrote short sentences on her arm. As she grew up, so did the sentences. Soon enough she would write short letters to her soulmate. It was like having a diary, it was like an imaginary friend, it was also completely different.

As she grew up though, Héloïse felt conflicted. Her soulmate was a shy one, and she rarely wrote her any response at all. Instead, Héloïse watched marveled as her soulmate’s drawings improved at an impressive speed. No other kid that Héloïse had ever met could make drawings as pretty as the ones she saw every day on her right forearm. And they would only get better and better as the years passed.

As a teenager, Héloïse went through a “hopeless romantic” phase. She became obsessed with everything surrounding the idea of soulmates. She would write daily letters as long as the space in her arm allowed. She would write her favorite quotes from books she read, from songs, movies, and poetry. She would stare at the drawings on her arm for the entire day, analyze the little details, memorize, and treasure each one. A little research let her know which artists and famous painters were her person’s favorites. And fun recreations of famous paintings would have her laughing by herself at the creativity of her soulmate.

She could remember that ever since she could only write a few letters, she had sent the letter H first. That’s how she signed all her letters, with a single H at the end. And she’d noticed the drawings were signed with a single M at the bottom. Plus, somewhere along the way, in all the years that passed, in the attention to detail when drawing hands, in the diverse variety of beautiful women and the great lack of men drawn, somewhere in warm colors, the soft lines and the passionate pictures, Héloïse felt certain M was a woman.

This all was an added headache to the usual troubles of teenage years and figuring out herself for Héloïse. So, after high school, done with the romanticism of mysterious, worldless drawings, and absent soulmates, Héloïse wrote one last letter. She demanded answers, information. She wanted a name, a location, a plan to meet each other. She very nearly begged. And she would have killed to see the reaction in the eyes of this other person.But all she got was another drawing. It was a beautiful portrait, the best she had seen from her soulmate so far. It was probably a famous one, but Héloïse got tired of the research.

She was out of high school, she was constantly fighting with her mother, she was losing her best friends who would take different paths in life. She was learning about politics, she had learned enough about herself to feel powerful, she felt a wave of bubbling anger and rebellion grow inside of her. The day after that last interaction Héloïse impulsively walked into a tattoo shop. “Leave me alone” she got tattooed on her left forearm. It was small but in bold, black letters. It got the message across.

* * *

Héloïse didn’t write to her soulmate again. And for a long time, she didn’t receive another painting from her. Instead, she focused on her studies. She was interested in many subjects, and spent the better part of her twenties in universities campus, splitting her time between classes, lectures, and alone time in any library she could find. On the side of degrees that she was genuinely interested in, she worked on a different passion. She researched everything there was to find out about the soulmate’s marks. She didn’t have a lot of success. Every theory and alternative she studied and considered, but no explanation left her satisfied. In all the thousands of years of history, humanity hadn’t come up with a better explanation than an unexplainable bond between two people meant for each other. This frustrated Héloïse beyond measure.

She had grown to understand herself even more, and understand more of the world. She still was mostly pragmatic, analytic and she refused to believe in things she couldn’t explain or control, refused to accept the powerlessness that came attached with trusting something called fate. Once or twice she's jumped into relationships hoping to prove she could have something perfect with somebody who couldn’t make pieces of art show up on her skin. They all failed miserably. But she also purposely avoided relationships for periods of time to prove that humans were complete as they were and without the need of another half. These experiments weren’t a complete failure.

But as her anger at the world, fate and whimsical bonds simmered down, she had space for other emotions. Some she welcomed, like her childlike curiosity for the sake of learning and not just to prove others wrong. Some she resented, like a nagging feeling of loneliness that attacked her every so often. And also like the spark of joy and relief when some days she rolled up the sleeves of her shirt and found a tiny, tiny drawing of a bouquet of flowers near her wrist.

Héloïse’s soulmate hadn’t given up all those years ago. Every once in a while, tiny drawings would show up in Héloïse’s arm. They were all small and delicate, shy and timid, as if the artist didn’t want to bother but couldn’t help but express herself, but send a small detail to show… affection? Solidarity? Thoughtfulness? Whatever it was, it was one of the reasons that Héloïse ended up discarding every scientific theory and explanation for the connection with this stranger. It just so happened that on her worst days, when she was stressed or anxious, when she was lonely or feeling blue, when she had a bad day or a nightmare, the pictures would show up. They showed up too, when it was a particularly good day, when she felt happy and whole, lucky and light. No matter the occasion, she couldn’t hold back the relief she felt for having someone out there still thinking about her, still sensitive to her emotions, still willing to reach out even though the words “Leave me alone” were forever engraved in both their arms.

The tattoo happened when she was seventeen. Three or four years passed before the timid little drawings on special days started to appear. And three or fours years more had to pass before Héloïse felt at peace with them, felt welcoming of them. That’s when she realized, she could feel them too. If her person knew when she had a bad day and drew flowers to cheer her up, Héloïse realized she could do the same. She hesitated, for a long time. She thought it would be hypocritical to send a smiley face beside the angry tattoo. However, one particularly cold night of winter, Héloïse felt something she’d never felt before. It was a deep sadness, it was a freezing pain that tugged at the deepest parts of her soul. It was grief, even if it wasn’t her own. She debated for the most part of the night what to do about it, until finally, she picked up a pen and with good intentions to make up for the lack of skills, she drew a couple of little flowers on her left forearm.

It was the beginning of a new form of communication for them. It was still tentative, shy, and not all that frequent. Héloïse realized her person was a genuinely great artist. She decided against going back to the deeply personal long letters that now embarrassed her, but she started to write down again little quotes every now and then. Even a few jokes that she thought of, because she remembered the parodies of famous paintings that used to make her laugh so much while growing up.

* * *

Almost without realizing, by the time Héloïse turned twenty-eight, she was keeping in touch with her soulmate nearly as often as when they’d been kids. She was surprised by how natural it all felt. It also scared her a little bit, after opposing so strongly to the idea for most of her life. So she chose not to dwell on it too much, and keep an open mind. Though an open mind, a gorgeous painting on a casual day, and the same untameable spirit that she’d carried her entire, those things ended up sending her back to a tattoo shop one day. In the same font and style, she made an addition to her tattoo. “Don’t leave me alone,” it said now, on both their arms, forever.

The next day, Héloïse woke up to find, instead of a painting, a map. Her heart skipped a beat and she immediately looked away. She couldn’t bear the possibility of finally having a location and being unable to get there. Taking a deep breath, Héloïse looked again. It was a map, complete with a few street names and points of reference. Paris. It was París. She was in Paris, her soulmate. They were both in the same city! She recognized the map at once, it was a part of the city she was familiar with because it was close to where she grew up. There was an X to mark a certain spot. It was an art museum she used to visit with her mother often when she was little. Most importantly, she could easily be there on the same day. She’d be there that afternoon.

When Héloïse arrived, she felt so overwhelmed by emotions and sensations that she even considered walking away, but that would go against everything in her. Her heart was beating fast, loudly, almost desperately. To keep her breathing in check she had to make a conscious effort, but her hands continued to fidget and tighten into fists as she walked around the museum. The nerves were natural, but there was something else, something unexplainable. An emotion so powerful and that came from such a deep place inside of her that she was at once certain she hadn’t ever crossed paths with her soulmate since that first day, because she would have noticed, she would have felt it. 

Héloïse felt her body tense and on edge, as if she’d just been running for her life, as if she were on the verge of death. She realized the museum wasn’t full, but there were plenty of people around. How could she find the one? She decided to stop by the one painting that caught her eye. She stared at it, at the darkness, the fire, the way it called to her. Making a decision, Héloïse got a pen from her bag and rolled up her sleeve, scribbling down the name of the painting on her skin. Then she waited, she stood still and stared at the painting while inside she was taken over by the most potent feelings she’d ever felt. There a was a knot on her throat, her palms were sweaty, she felt like crying or laughing. She knew she should be scared, nervous, doubtful, but all other emotions were greatly overshadowed by an intense feeling of joy and excitement.

Then it happened. Héloïse could feel her proximity the moment she walked toward her. She was standing just a couple of feet right behind Héloïse. They both stayed still for a moment, savoring the torture of the sweet anticipation. It really was like dying, or it must be like being reborn, Héloïse thought. And then she heard it, the words she had just written on her arm, spoken from behind her, by the most fascinating voice she’d ever heard. It sounded like coming home, and it made her turn around.

“Portrait de la jeune fille en feu,” Marianne said. Her voice was unsteady, and she was making an inhumane effort to keep herself from just throwing her arms around the woman standing in front of her. When Héloïse turned around and meet her eyes, Marianne gasped. She was the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen, she was everything she ever wanted, and she didn’t know that from just one look at her, she’d known all those years ago, she knew the moment she was born, and she felt it everyday burning in her skin.

Marianne’s awe was perfectly reflected in Héloïse’s features. She was invaded by questions. How was it possible? Why now and why us? Why did we ever stay apart? Why were you scared and why did I refuse you? But then, as Héloïse focused on Marianne’s eyes, it all vanished. After spending her entire life questioning it all, she found all the answers in the woman in front of her, in each other, in the two of them together. They were the explanation, the answer, the soulmates.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> I wrote this instead of the Room 28 epilogue because i am a mess :)
> 
> i've actually been thinking about this idea since i was finishing that other fic, but it was hard to get to write it but finally here it is!  
> i love the concept of soulmate identifying marks, i've read many different versions of them in other fandoms and i don't know if there's anything similar here but i wanted to share my own take  
> this was a weird one, not the usual fic for me, it's just like one long emotional rambling but i hope you guys like the story. and i hope it wasn't very confusing. also shoutout to noemie merlant being left handed lol  
> i got really inspired at the end and im kinda proud of it?  
> i feel like this be just this one-shot, but if anyone feels strongly about adding another chapter to see some dialogue, if you have any ideas, let me know :) i won't make any promises tho, i have to finish a bunch of other fics first lmao  
> it's been so long since i've logged in but hello to everyone at the p.28 discord!
> 
> please tell me what you think about it all? i promise to reply to all comments!
> 
> that's it! thanks for reading!  
> you can find me on tumblr @afterlaughy and pls talk to me anytime!


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